


the way of thieves

by truthtakestime



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Leverage
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Kids, Snart is a giant softie, theives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/pseuds/truthtakestime
Summary: Snart does something good with his free time during a visit to the early 90's. Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little interlude I wrote during NaNoWriMo this year, to clear my head. A friend asked for something with Snart and children. I improvised.
> 
> Thanks to DinerGuy for the beta!

Leonard had no idea why these things always happened to _him_. Honestly, this was what he got for trying to pretend he could be a hero. Or a decent human. Or anyone but a thief, really. 

The little girl blinked up at him, blonde bangs falling in her blue eyes. She clutched a raggedy stuffed rabbit to her chest and cocked her head to one side. “Hey.” 

Helplessly, Snart looked around for someone, _anyone_ from the team. This was really more Ray’s purview than his. Or Kendra’s; Kendra was good with kids. Heck, even Sara could have probably found something to say to the kid that was better than whatever he would come up with. He hated kids. They were dirty and sticky and their noses were always running, and just about the only one he’d ever cared about was his sister. He certainly didn’t care about _this_ one, who had approached him out of nowhere. In 1996.

Apparently, the kid didn’t approve of his lack of response, because she kicked him in the shins. “ _Hey_ ,” she repeated, more loudly this time. 

“Ow!” he responded, stumbling back and rubbing the spot that she’d kicked. Another reason to dislike small children. “What was that for?” 

“You didn’t answer me,” she pouted, sticking her lip out. 

Leonard eyed her disdainfully. What had ever happened to discipline? “Didn’t your mom and dad ever teach you to use your words to solve problems instead of your fists? Or feet?” 

Her eyebrows shot up, and her mouth turned down, and...oh gosh, were those tears welling up in her eyes? Leonard had _not_ signed on to comfort crying kids! “No, no. Stop it.” He shook his head as she stifled a sob. “Stop! Do you think I don’t know what crocodile tears are? My sister practically invented the schtick. Don’t play this game with me.” 

But she didn’t stop. “I don’t have a mom and dad,” she mumbled tearfully, kicking at the ground with the toe of her sneaker. “They died.” 

Well crap. “I’m...sorry.” Maybe she was just faking it to get at him, but then, maybe she wasn’t. Leonard certainly wasn’t planning to be responsible for trying to call this little girl out if it turned out to be the latter. “I’m kind of an orphan, too.” 

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Really?” 

Since his mom had been gone for years and he’d kind of accidentally on purpose had to kill his father, Snart was going to call it the truth. “Yeah, really. But it’s okay because I’m tough. I survived. Are you tough?” 

Standing there, clutching her stuffed toy, bottom lip still shaking, she did not look particularly tough. But she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m tough, too.” 

“Good.” He could work with that. “That means that you can stop crying, right? Because you’re tough.” And if anyone happened on by while the little girl was crying in front of the big man wearing a parka in May, that was probably not going to look very good for him. Not to mention he’d never hear the end of it back on the ship. 

“Will you help me find my way home?” she asked, brightening a little bit. “I just got here the other day, I came out for a walk, but I got lost. I have a new foster family. Did you have a foster family when you were a little boy?” 

Juvie had been a kind of family, or at least Mick had. And he supposed that now the team was a little bit of a foster situation. Not that he’d ever admit it to _them_ , of course. But to this little girl, in the middle of the nineties, with the rest of the team off doing whatever it was that they were doing that they hadn’t needed him for? “Yeah, something like that.” 

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the next street. “I think my new house is this way…” 

What the heck? He could do worse things with his afternoon than help the kid get home. Maybe they would pass a jewelry store on the way or something. 

It took about an hour and a half of wandering around random residential areas (no jewelry stores or banks or anything interesting) and being chatted at by the small child, to finally find the house she said was hers. “This is it!” she exclaimed suddenly, pointing at a modest ranch. “Thanks for helping me!” 

It was a street that they must have passed or started down at least three times in the past hour. A tingle of suspicion started in the back of Leonard’s brain, but he pushed it aside. Not all kids learned how to case a neighborhood or rob a bank by the time they were ten. Maybe she really had forgotten where her house was; she said it was a new foster family. “You gonna be okay from here?” he asked. He could only imagine the hell that would rain down on him if he accidentally dropped the kid off at a criminal’s house. 

She nodded brightly, which should have been the end of it. But then she wrapped her arms around him tightly, and it was exactly as unexpected as everything else that she had done that day. “Thanks Mister!” she said again, before running off up the path and bursting inside the house. From inside, he heard a woman’s worried voice. “Parker! Where have you been?” 

At least the kid had someone looking out for her. Good. That meant he didn’t have to worry too much. 

xx

When everyone had finally congregated back on the ship after -- as usual -- almost destroying time as they knew it (these people were really bad at the whole “low profile” thing; at least he was honest about it!), they all demanded to know what he had done with his free time. Leonard hardly thought that it was any of their business; it wasn’t like _he_ was looking for details of all the crap that they had been running around causing. 

“I took a long walk,” was all he would say, because really it was none of their business. Not to mention what it would do to his image. 

“Come on, Snart,” Jax wheedled. “You can’t leave us hangin’ like that! What did you steal?” 

“Nothing, unfortunately.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “It was probably the least satisfying afternoon off that I’ve had since -- crap!” He took back every kind and warm thought he’d ever had about that kid, ever. She was not some sweet, innocent little orphan; she was pure mischief, and deviousness, and had the lightest touch he’d ever seen. 

Rip looked at him, and there was a twinkle in his eye that Leonard didn’t appreciate _at all_. “What is it, Mr. Snart?” he asked calmly. 

Evil as it was, Snart had to admit that he was impressed. The kid had talent. Pity she couldn’t have worked _for_ him instead. “Some kid stole my wallet.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have an entire extended headcanon about this where Mick is the one who teaches Parker how to blow stuff up. They get everyone out of the house, obviously. But he helps her rig the place to blow. Maybe I'll write it one day.


End file.
